Cracking Glass Dreams
by Twerksie
Summary: Oneshot, LilyJames – In the course of one night, James changes her stubborn mind and melts the ice around her heart.


**Cliché**  
By Kimmy

Summary: One-shot, LilyJames – In the course of one night, James changes her stubborn mind and melts the ice around her heart.

Notes: Well. This is my Christmas gift to all of you, my beloved readers. It surprisingly only took me a few hours to finish. I give all the credit to the fact that Christmas is coming. grins This piece turned out a little different than I expected, but it's somehow better this way. It was meant to be really fluffy, but I don't know if it turned out that way, either. I'm a bit biased as the author.

Let me know what you think of it! Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Holidays to you all!

----

Lily Evans had always been a hopeless romantic at heart. Seventeen-years-old though she was, there remained a part of her mind still untouched by the progression of time. That part of her mind still believed in fairy tales, in the gallant knight come to sweep the fair princess off of feet covered in delicate glass slippers. She turned a deaf ear to anyone who dared to even suggest that fate and destiny were mere figments of imagination, and she would probably not hesitate to curse a total stranger into oblivion for questioning her belief.

She cherished every valentine she received, even when the ink had started to fade and the edges began to wear away. She kept every rose given to her, long after its scent had faded and its petals had dried and fallen. She wrote corny love poems in the margins of her Charms notes; she recited proclamations of love to imaginary lovers when she was alone in her dormitory; she kept herself awake at night, imagining clichéd meetings of torn, defeated lovers doomed from the start.

Her friends said it was childish and unrealistic of her to keep daydreaming of such things.

She ignored them, and told them that she would make them eat their words, someday. And for a while after that, she was content.

But it was only a matter of time until reality set in.

After years of her friends' endless taunts, and no one in sight to convince her otherwise, Lily's resolve began to falter. She began to believe in those words that she had once loathed with every inch of her being. She began to believe that Happy Ever After endings were fake; that destiny was as imaginary as the lovers who came in the dead of night to call on her.

That her one true love would never come and rescue her.

----

The moon cast ethereal rays of light on her bedside table. Outside, the snow drifted past her window and layered the grounds with a blanket of pure white.

The old Lily Evans would have considered the scene very romantic, the ideal situation for a rather dramatic proclamation of love, out there in the cold, cold night.

But the new Lily Evans could not have cared less. She regarded the window with contempt. That blasted moonlight was keeping her awake, and the snow seemed to have been transported inside, for Lily was giving into shivers. It was so cold!

She released a frustrated groan, her green eyes narrowing one last time in loathing at the falling snow, before shifting onto her other side. She curled up into the fetal position, and vigorously rubbed her hands together. But after a while, she realized it really was no use. The cold still prickled at her skin, and even the heating pan placed in between the sheets seemed to have been frozen solid. She placed her right hand over her heart and wondered vaguely, out of fatigue, if hearts were capable of being frozen.

And if they were, if they were capable of being melted.

Five minutes later, she was wrapped twice over in her blanket and comforter, and though the shivers had died down, it was still too cold to be able to fall asleep. She cast envious glares at her dormitory mates, who were all nicely tucked in dreamland, and looking quite content. She suddenly had an urge to chuck something at their heads, wake them all up, and stick them in the hell she found herself to be in.

But she was interrupted by soft rapping at the glass window. The Headgirl's eyes widened in the darkness. _What in the bloody - ?_

She shifted back onto the other side, and her eyes went even wider, if possible. There was James Potter, floating in air, on his trusty broomstick, and grinning at her.

Lily sat up quickly, shaking her head. "What the hell - ?" she mouthed at the Marauder.

James raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement, the grin melting in a smirk. He pointed at the window. "Open!" he mouthed.

The girl's gaping mouth quickly morphed into a scowl. "No!"

The messy-haired teenager pouted, and angled his head in a...cute sort of manner. The redhead was tempted to refuse him, but the humanitarian side of her reminded her that it was almost freezing out there, and he would no doubt float out there until she gave in.

Besides. Who could refuse that angelic face?

She sighed, and got up, careful to keep the comforters wrapped around her. As soon as she arrived in front of the window, she threw it open, and at once, regretted it. A cold breeze floated in, and Lily shuddered instantly. She stood aside as James climbed in, his messy hair layered with snow. "Hey, Evans," he said charmingly, straightening up and propping up his broomstick against the window. "Here's your charming prince come to _sweep_ you off your feet." He motioned to the broom.

Lily twitched, partly because of the lame joke, partly because of his choice of words, and partly because it was too damn cold to be dealing with the Headboy. But mostly because of his choice of words. She glared daggers at him as she moved forward to pull the window back down, and he seemed to notice.

"Er," he mumbled, chuckling nervously, "Maybe I shouldn't have said that?" he ventured.

Lily didn't answer. "What did you want?" she hissed, quite aware of the sleeping girls all around them.

"Well," James whispered sheepishly, rubbing his elbow, "I heard you saying you were getting cold in the common room, and Padfoot said that it'd only get colder, so I thought I'd get you some butterbeer." He produced two bottles of the sweet drink from his coat pockets. "They're still warm," he offered.

Lily's jaw dropped instantaneously. He had traveled to Hogsmeade and back (Lily really didn't want to know how), just to get her a bottle of butterbeer. There really was nothing left but to accept, really. After all, it would be rude to refuse it after he went through all of that trouble. "Er – okay," she agreed, nodding, "we can drink them in the common room."

The Marauder's face brightened at once. "Right, then!" he said cheerily. He took her hand, and pulled her along, and Lily didn't bother struggling.

----

Lily was settled quite comfortably in the common room. Her comforters were wrapped around her still, but she was no longer freezing to death. And she had James Potter to thank for it.

Imagine that.

She cast a sidelong glance at her companion, who was sitting on the floor next to her, and staring into the depths of the fire in front of them. Really, he wasn't a bad guy, Lily found herself suddenly thinking. Going through all that trouble to get her a drink to warm her up.  
And he's pretty damn cute, she thought before she could stop herself. That hair...really, once you get used to it, it develops a unique sort of...appeal. And it looks so soft, too...wonder what it feels like. He lifted the bottle to his lips, and she found herself admiring his hands. His strong, perfect hands. And it felt so nice when he was holding hers –

"Evans."

"Yes?"

"You're staring at my hand."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you – never mind."

Lily mentally kicked herself. She quickly made up an excuse. "I was just wondering why..."

James' hazel eyes found hers in the light of the fire. "Why what?"

"Why you went through all of that trouble for me..." she shrugged, and she lifted her bottle up to her lips to cover up the silence. It warmed her heart. Melted it.  
When James didn't answer, she added, "I mean, you came calling on me in the dead of night, carrying bottles of - ..." but she had been distracted.

_Calling on her in the dead of night._ It sounded familiar.

But she soon shook it off, for James had started talking. "I dunno," he admitted, putting down his bottle on the carpeted floor. "I just thought it'd be nice to do for you, y'know. I didn't get you anything for Christmas."

Guilt. Oh, dear guilt. "Well," she confessed, "I didn't get you anything for Christmas, either."

"I can consider this a present," James mumbled, embarrassed. Lily thought she saw a hint of red in his cheeks in the dim firelight.

Silence fell again. The redhead saw that his bottle of butterbeer was empty. So was hers. For some reason, she found herself dreading her departure. So she filled the silence. "This is nice," she said in a pleasant voice.

"It is," James agreed, grinning. He threw her a gentle smile. "Glad your one true love came to rescue you, then?" he said, chuckling. He was joking.

Rescue. "I didn't need a rescue," she said softly, not unkindly.

But wait. That sounded familiar, too.

_One true love coming to rescue her. Calling on her in the dead of night._ They both sounded _frighteningly_ familiar.

And then it clicked. She thought back. Back to when she first started believing her friends' words.

-

_She began to believe that destiny was as imaginary as the lovers who came in the dead of night to call on her; that her one true love would never come and rescue her._

-

Twice did James use the same exact words. And he had come to call on her in the dead of night. And now he was talking about being her rescuer. Could it be a coincidence? Lily found herself chuckling nervously. _Of course it was a coincidence. What else would it be?_   
But even so, Lily was very easily spooked. "Er, Potter," Lily said weakly, "I'm getting a bit sleepy."

James looked disappointed. "Ah," he said, nodding slowly. He lifted himself up first. And then he offered his hand to her. She took it, and only had a second to revel in the feel, before she reminded herself that it was wrong.

"Thanks," she mumbled, when he had released her hand. She turned away, and James was left staring at her back. "This was nice."

James did not answer. But when Lily had only taken two steps forward, he said suddenly, "You don't believe in your true love coming to rescue you?"

There it was again. Lily resisted the urge to run. "No," Lily said quietly, shaking her head at the ground.

"Oh. I don't either, y'know."

Curiosity squashed the urge to run like a bug. "Why?"

"Because you have to need a rescue to be rescued," he paused. "And you, as you claim, don't need one just yet."

"Hmm," Lily agreed, nodding. It made her feel better. She stepped forward. And was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the rumple in the carpet. She tripped.

James was in front of her in a flash, years of Quidditch training coming into play. He caught her easily by the waist.

----

At four in the morning, on December 22, you would find two certain Headstudents in the Gryffindor common room, looking very cozy. The Headgirl was tucked in the Headboy's embrace, her forehead resting in the crook of his neck, and his arms snaking lazily around her waist.

But of course, it was nothing like that. He had just rescued her from falling.

Really.

----

Lily could have smacked herself upside the head if she hadn't been caught in James Potter's arms. How clumsy of her.

She had tripped, and she had fallen straight into the arms of James Potter. She sighed, and pushed herself off of his chest. She opened her mouth, but there was nothing to say. And even if there had been, the look he was giving her would surely have silenced her. It was a look she had never before seen on his face. A combination of amusement and triumph, and something lurking in his deep hazel eyes. He opened his mouth, and said, in a tender voice, "Was that a need to be rescued, Miss Evans?"

And there it was again. The one true love coming to rescue her. Really, it was all getting ridiculous. Just because he had come calling on her in the dead of night didn't mean that destiny was, in any way, real. And just because he had rescued her certainly did not mean James Potter was her one true love.

Right?

It was just all a freaky coincidence.

...Right?

If, by chance, something else were to happen...say, a _sign_ of some sorts...then maybe Lily might consider it being more than a coincidence.

Yes, that seemed reasonable. She chuckled nervously, as she struggled to get out of his grip. "Thanks, Potter," she mumbled.

James did not answer. A smirk played about his lips.

"What?"

James directed a glance above them. So did Lily.

"Oh, you're _joking!_" There, hovering above them, was a single branch of mistletoe. The only branch in the whole of the common room. _There's your sign, Lily,_ a cheery voice went from somewhere in Lily's head.

James grinned evilly.

----

And all in the course of one night, James had changed Lily's stubborn mind by floating by her window, saving her from a rather nasty fall and finally by just a bit of luck.

Just because a certain Sirius Black had planted the rumple in the carpet and the floating mistletoe hours before for his own special purposes didn't make the fact that James Potter was Lily Evans' one true love any less true.

The end results are the same, aren't they?

**End**

I think I crapped up the ending. --;;; Sigh. But otherwise, I rather like it. I'm proud.

Never mind the fact that I'll probably loathe it as soon as I put it up, like I loathe the rest of the fics I've posted.

-twitch- Anyway, really, all, Happy Holidays, please have safe ones! I'll see you all later! -heart-

Oh, and remember to review!


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